One And honestly,

Three How can we rise up and take the reigns back,

Two When all we really wanna do is to kill our dreams and let our brains

All Smack

Two Themselves about in the corner of a rave?

Three Desperate for someone to help us, but convinced we can’t be saved.

One We got friends we known since we were born, but we can’t tell them what we’re feeling,

Three We’re alone with the city in all its dirty heaving mess –

Two Where the children fight for breath and get old before their time,

One Or, die young enough to live forever, or lose their fuckin’ minds.

Three And that’s the perfect tragedy of London –

Two A city where the best of us lose our ability to function,

One And the worst of us thrive,

Two And the rest of us stride on and on through

Three The mess,

Two The rust,

Three The flesh,

Two The lust,

Three The lies.

One The breath,

Three The dust,

One The skies we lift our heads to watch,

Three The pride.

Two The sex,

Three The blood,

Two The fried food,

Three The stress

Two The way we hide from the truth that is inside.

Three We hold so tight to our disguise,

One That we find ourselves alone when we’re surrounded, divided from our tribe. Scene One Ted is sitting on a park bench looking out at the audience. He’s looking at Tony’s tree. He has a can in his hand, a plastic bag full of cans by his feet. He’s wearing a cheap suit and shoes, but he doesn’t look shabby. He looks smart. Smoking. He sits there for a long moment before speaking. Sound of birds, distant sirens. Kids screaming in a playground somewhere. Traffic. Ted seems quite pissed. ⁷ But he’s holding it together.

Ted It used to be, we hung out coz I couldn’t wait to be around her, couldn’t wait to bury my head in her tits and listen to her giggle. But now. Now, we wake up together every morning and it don’t feel the same.

I think I’m miserable, Tony. I wouldn’t want her to know that, it don’t seem fair on her, but between you and me mate, I think I’m pretty fuckin’ miserable. Right now I mean,

today.

She thinks I’m on the career ladder coz I wear this shitty suit to the office, but I’m not though, Tony, I’m going nowhere, surrounded by idiots. Nicole from accounts, stinkin’ of custard creams⁸ and talkin’ all the fuckin’ time. Mate. It’s killin’ me, the weeks go by, every day the same shit. I’ll be doin’ the stock take and the data entry ’til I’m dead in the ground and it won’t have made the slightest bit of difference to no one. I wouldn’t even mind it, you know, it’s work. It’s payin’ the bills, but it’s so fuckin’ tedious though. I’m in there, all day, giving them all of my fuckin’ time, and every day that goes past stacks up, and I swear it, right, sometimes, at night, I can see all the days I’ve given ’em, all huddled together in this massive crowd at the foot of my bed, laughin’ at me when I’m trying to sleep. We’re still young, for fuck’s sake. We could sell the car. Leave the flat. Fuck off for a year. We could live in Spain, I could get a job in a bar. She could be a waitress. We could swim naked in the sea. We could get drunk in the afternoons and sleep it off on the beach, we could …